


alternative ending to Pygmalion

by LambentLaments



Series: Pygmalion 'verse [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 07:43:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4296405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LambentLaments/pseuds/LambentLaments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternative ending to Pygmalion fic, deviating from the end of chapter 6. Not stand-alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	alternative ending to Pygmalion

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternative ending deviating from the end of chapter 6 of Pygmalion. This does not affect the main storyline at all, so don’t feel compelled in any way to read it- this story is pretty horrible, and not just in quality either.  
> Minding that, if you've still decided to read this, I’ve put asterisks at the beginning and end of the gore scene. If you felt squeamish about that sort of thing before, just skip that part.  
> I have absolutely no knowledge of criminal procedures or of the judicial system. Basically, all this is crap. 
> 
> For commenter Ivan, whose comment was a direct inspiration for writing this.

He morphed his expression into one he hoped was representative of his saneness. “I swear to you guys, I’m fine. Look, I can prove it, let me show you-“

Then he realized something. All they had seen of Nico’s face was the five minute interval from a month ago. Five minutes in which they were utterly distracted by the fact that they were going to be cutting open a dead body for the first time. Unlike him, the other three had not spent the last month daydreaming about Nico’s face. Even if they saw him, they would think him an uncanny lookalike at best. He imagined showing Nico to them and explaining that ‘here’s our cadaver. Only alive. Because he’s a vampire. And I reincarnated him by kissing him. And no, I’m not insane.’ Somehow he didn’t think they’d quite believe him.

“You can talk to us if you’re having problems.” Lou was saying. “And maybe… with a professional as well.” Great, now they were suggesting he see a therapist. “I’m sorry Will, but we’re your friends, and we’re worried about you. We’re just looking out for you. You get that, right?”

Will paused, trying to find the words to tell the truth without making them doubt his stability. He was at a loss, they wouldn’t believe Nico to be the cadaver until they saw the empty lab tabl-

“Umm, Will? Please don’t be mad.”

Will shook himself out of his shock. “Yeah, okay,” he said with sudden swiftness that surprised the other three. “Yeah, therapy, whatever, no more fucking guys that look like our cadaver, got it, yeah. Excuse me.” He handed Sneezy’s head to Cecil and almost ran back to his room.

He closed the door, and said to Nico in a loud whisper, “I just realized, we don’t have a cadaver anymore.”

Nico looked up from the desk where he was examining the Mythomagic beginner’s card pack and raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t med students supposed to be smart or something?”

“No, shut up. But if you’re real, that means we don’t have a body anymore, and- oh my god I am so screwed.”

Nico frowned. “What is it?’

“I was the last person to leave the lab. They’re going to think I stole it. Your body I mean.”

“Well you technically did?”

“I’m so going to get kicked out, Nico. They’ll think I cut you up and put you in my bag or something. What the hell am I going to do?”

Nico’s expression was getting harder, in a way Will was beginning to recognize. It was one he wore when he thought he was unwanted.

“Angel, I’m not regretting anything, I swear.” Nico was still glaring at a random spot, and he went over to kiss his forehead. “I would steal a thousand body parts to have you here.” He said, because he was romantic that way.

Nico relented somewhat. “Are you sure you were the last to leave? Maybe someone came in after us?”

“God, I hope not. They’d have seen you missing already. But I don’t think so- we closed the door behind us, remember? It’s locked digitally, which means that only a faculty member or one of the assistants could have come in after that.”

“But there still isn’t any real proof you took my body. Won’t your friends stick up for you once they know I’m here?’

“Yeah. I guess they would.” Will could feel himself calming down. “But they won’t believe you’re you until they see that you’re missing. We’ll just have to wait till Monday to explain, then, and introduce you.” He wrapped his arms around Nico, because Nico was still naked and beautiful for it, and even after everything, he felt too good to be true, and Will could not quite believe that he was real,.

But Nico was deliberating on something, Will could tell, even as Nico let himself be taken to bed and was pliant and quiet underneath him. It wasn’t until Will slid off him, the sound of his heavy breathing filling the room, that Nico asked, almost dispassionately, “Do you think your friends will like me?”

“Of course they will. I’ll make them like you.”

“But if they don’t? You still won’t regret anything?”

Will laid a hand on his arm. “Angel, you make it sound like I’ll have to choose between you and them.”

Nico looked at him, eyes dark, and Will knew that that was exactly what Nico had been thinking of. “What about other people as well? What if it was a question of the rest of the world?”

“Don’t worry about stuff like that. There is no choice, I’m not leaving you.”

At that moment, with the lights gone, Nico’s skin looked greyer than pale, and his eyes were far away and unseeing, full with the infinite gloom of the dead. “There’s always a choice.” He said, emptily, and Will could see him so, empty and gutted out. He shivered and held him anyway, though for the first time since he had seen the body on the table he was truly afraid to do so.

===

Will woke as late as he had the day before. The first thing he realized upon waking was that Nico was not next to him. The second thing he noticed was the smell. He gagged for a few seconds, then started taking in small breaths, realizing that the smell wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought it to be. It was just cloying, and much more disturbingly, somewhat familiar.

He sat up abruptly at the realization, calling out Nico’s name. He saw the boy, crouching on the floor with his back to him, and littered on the floor beside him, some furry, mangled clumps of items.

He averted his eyes when he saw what they were. His instinct was to shrink back or head for the door; when it came to fight or flight instincts, he had never been one to indulge on the former option. He counted downwards from ten, and then reaching one, stood up to get Nico.

He bypassed the dead animals, standing on tiptoe at some point so as not to disturb the smaller carcasses of rats, and knelt behind the crouched figure. Despite his careful positioning his toes skimmed some fur, and Will did not attempt to shun the shiver down his back. Nico did not jump at his touch as he’d imagined he would, but only turned his head expectedly.

Will had lived a relatively square, sheltered life, but he would have been stupid not to recognize how high Nico was. Ignoring the cat Nico had in his hand, he reached out for his face, to turn his face in an angle that would have his eyes focus on him.

Nico lunged, straight toward Will’s neck, faster should have physically been possible. Will went down, feeling something soft and still a little warm at the small of his back. In another second he registered that Nico had not broken the skin of his neck, and had only caged him in by his shoulders. Nico looked down at him, eyes dilated, teeth bared and stained red.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me.” Will said. It surprised him how calm he sounded. Nico’s eyes shifted, catlike, as Will enunciated. His eyes flickered towards his neck, caught by the movement there. “You don’t want to hurt me Nico, you’ll hate yourself for it.”

He thought he felt Nico’s grasp on his loosening by a fraction, and he continued, lightheaded. “What will you be without me? Who’ll want you then? Not yourself, you know that. You need me, Nico.” He didn’t know when he’d come to the conclusion, but he had, and the words came out on their own. “You need me alive so that I can call your name.”

He would have liked to believe that there was some truth to his words, but they were all nonsense of course. Nico’s gradual shift into rationality was quite certainly from not the words themselves but the slow, calming way in which he’d employed them. Will waited for a full minute before gently getting up, pushing Nico back. Nico sat, obedient, his knees up, feet to the floor, looking, in both expression and demeanor, like a child.

*******

Will wondered if Nico would cry, and knowing he’d hate Will to see it, got up. The furry thing he’d lain on turned out to be a pigeon, a fat, near black one with a green and purple plume, now busted open. He attempted to clean the mess from off his back with a bunch of Kleenex, but there was no way to know he’d done the job properly.

Kayla wasn’t there when he went out to get a garbage bag. He’d expected it, with no reason at all, though he’d cared to put on a pair of pants beforehand. The pigeon was the first to get into the bag, leaving a trail of color on his fingers. Next were two rats and a cat.

As the cat slipped into the bag, Will felt its heartbeat, weak and fast, vibrating under his fingers. He scooped it back out hurriedly. Tail stiff, mouth half open and eyes flung back, it looked very dead. Now that the crinkle of plastic was not there to interfere, however, he could hear very faintly, a gurgling sound from its mouth.

Will went to the kitchen and found the sharpest knife he had. He positioned it, trying to find where he thought the cat’s heart would be, then gave up. His hands were steady as he sliced its neck. He had been trained well, these five weeks. He didn’t even blink or turn his gaze away lest he miss.

He took out the two rats from the bag and felt for their heartbeats. There were none, but after they and the decapitated cat were placed back in, he started to go through the procedure with the rest, holding himself immobile to discern the faintest movements. After a while he found a rat alive, but then was forced to conclude that it would be faster to ascertain all of their deaths.

He had gotten a blue ribbon in high school for dissecting a baby pig. He’d been very proud, and Dad even prouder. This, he told himself, wasn’t any different at all. No, in fact, it was preferable. This had a better purpose. It wasn’t so hard really, not much more difficult than trimming asparaguses. The pigeons were the easiest, despite the one with the maggoty eye. The hardest, the single dog. He thought of Minty, though this one, a smallish mutt with matted yellowish grey fur, looked nothing like her.

**********

“They’re not going to come back,” said Nico as Will took care of the last of the carcasses, his voice small and cold, so as not to show how upset he was, Will assumed.

“What?”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing, making sure they don’t come back?”

That had not even occurred to him. “No, I’m putting them out of their misery.”

Nico didn’t say anything as Will put a rat’s head in the bag and tied the loose plastic ends, but he surprised Will by finally muttering, “Weird.” Will turned to look at him. Nico was hugging his knees and had his chin on them, glowering at the floor.

“What is?’

Nico took even longer answering. “Thinking death could ever be a better option.”

Will opened its mouth to say something, then didn’t. What was he to know, anyway?

He washed his hands and got dressed. He did all this hurriedly, not at all like how he’d been before, as if he was trying to get away.

“You said you wouldn’t leave me.” Nico said, watching him. He had moved during Will’s short detour to the bathroom, and was now sitting on the chair, wrapping his arms around his torso, as if he were hiding the hole in himself. Nico had ripped out half of the cardboard covering the windows, and under the faint sunlight, and though he was dirty, Will thought he looked nearly translucent.

“I’m not.”

“I can tell you don’t want me anymore.”

“That’s not true, Nico. Just, tell me if you need a splurge. This can’t be hygienic, I’ll get you some lab rats or something.”

“I can tell you’re afraid.”

Will could not deny that, Nico could probably smell him. “I’m just afraid people will find this out.”

Nico didn’t say anything, and Will wondered if this was the wrong thing to say, if he’d just answered to Nico’s questions from last night.

“You were breathing next to me.” Nico said, tonelessly. “You have no idea what the sound of breathing does to me. I listened to it, for hours and hours. I tried to sleep, but I’d slept too much. I couldn’t stop listening.”

Will should have expected it, that Nico would be turned on by his vitality as much as he was by Nico’s lack of it. It was hypocritical to condemn Nico for anything he’d done. It was, on principal, exactly what Will had done to Nico, that is, trying to satisfy a desire for the unattainable.

But still, he was afraid. He was afraid to be ashamed. He was afraid of his own abhorrence.

He put on the same jeans from the day before, and checked that he still had Kayla’s keys with him. He lifted the trash bag. “Don’t let Kayla see you,” he said towards the painted figure, and left, feeling a sharp prickle of relief that brought on a bigger wave of shame.

He took the stairs, but Kayla was on the first floor, waiting for the elevator. Will stepped back on seeing her, trying to withdraw, but the crinkle of plastic made Kayla turn her head.

“Oh, hey.” Kayla smiled, but Will thought it looked a bit condescending, as if she thought Will might turn unstable if she showed the smallest bit of animosity.

“Hey.” Will smiled back, though it felt strange on his face. He felt nauseated, cornered. Kayla must have seen something was wrong as well, or else she felt compelled to be friendly towards him, feeling guilty about last night’s accusation, because she walked towards him.

Then she frowned. “I took out the trash yesterday.”

“I had…other stuff. Personal stuff.” He said, trying not to step back.

Kayla took another step towards him. “Oh. Should I help you? That’s quite a load you hav-“

She froze, and he knew she could smell the contents of the bag. The stench had only increased under Will’s knife, and there was nothing as distinct as the smell of corpses.

“I should go.” Will said. Kayla didn’t stop him, and he brushed past her. At the door, the sun hurt his eyes, now used to the gloom of his room. It saddened him to know this. He had always loved the sun.

Seated in the car with the bag next to him, he wondered if he should have shown her the contents of the bag. But how could he have? It scared him that he knew what Kayla had been thinking. And it scared him that he’d been reluctant to prove her wrong. It was as if he knew something without knowing what.

He drove around a bit, looking for a location. He found a garbage laden alley with few passersby, and making sure there was no security camera, waited for the coast to clear. When it did, He laid the bag gently on top of other identical trash bags. Returning to the car, he looked back, twice.

Back at the apartment, Kayla looked at him with frightened eyes he refused to meet. He wanted to say that it wasn’t what she thought, but he was afraid to acknowledge what she was thinking of. He got himself raw toast, feeling her gaze on his back, and retreated to his room.

Nico was gone.

Even the clothes he’s given him were there, on the floor. Will picked it up and smelled them. They smelled like death. In fact, the whole room did. The smell of slow decay, strangely sweet and cloying, seemed to permeate the fiber of his surroundings, sticking on to him and penetrating his every pore. He thought, with no reason at all, that the smell must have been here before today, ever since he’d brought Nico here.

He waited in his room, not turning on the lights even when the sun began to set. He waited, slowly turning his fear numb. Nico could not be gone. The boy could not exist without him, not Nico anyway. The predator could, certainly, and thrive upon Will’s absence, but Nico could not. He was a creature of concepts, and needed someone else to shape his existence and define him

His waiting was an active process, one that he had to put effort in. He felt as though the second he stopped thinking of him, Nico would cease to be real. Once, daunted by the silence that failed to breach the smell of death, he put on some music, but then quickly turned it off again, because he remembered that was what Clepison had told him to do to ward off Nico.

And yet he was afraid. As he lay on his bed, wishing of a voice and the feeling of cold skin against him, he deplored to hear and feel those things, in the way that dreamer might both long and dread the reality of a conflicting dream. Still he waited. Several times he thought he heard the light platter of feet, and he started, hoping to see those feet attached from thin limbs, his extremities disproportionate in a distinctly pubescent manner. But those starts were only him waking from creeping dozes..

He was unraveling, he knew, and was unable to stop it. Morning came, unwanted and inexorable. It must have been him that walked outside, attempted to wash up and eat. It must have been, because who else could it be. It must have been him, also, that packed his bag and walked with Kayla down to the lab.

It was him that faced the empty lab table and the faces of his lab mates. On one level he was still waiting, for Nico to show up and put things right. On another he was too tired to do anything than stare dumbly back. He was afraid as they called the cops and all the students were put in for questioning, but it was a stagnant sort of fear, the focus of which Will did not know.

He was not surprised when they singled him out. He had been the last to be seen with Nico’s body after all. They asked him, at the interrogation room, if he’d known the theft of a body was a felony, a serious one at that, he replied truthfully that he hadn’t.

He didn’t know what Kayla and the other two had admitted under questioning, but he could guess. The deconstruction of a story into facts would have been a terrible one. His infatuation with the body; the weekend seclusion in his room and the reluctance to let Kayla see inside; the black haired head, the rest covered with blankets, that Kayla had glimpsed despite it; and finally the large black plastic bag that reeked of death.

A search warrant was in order. He wasn’t told exactly what they discovered, but it was certainly enough to oust the ‘college prank’ angle they seemed to have been hanging on till now. He could imagine seeing through a stranger’s eye, the state of the room. The brocaded window, they would have no doubt it was done to block out not the sun but eyes from the neighboring building. The smell of decay and embalming fluids, the strange stains on the carpet.

If those were not enough to ascertain their beliefs, there would be more. Perhaps they would find black hair, obviously belonging to neither he nor Kayla, in the shower drain that always clogged up. And they must have found the newspaper covered kitchen knife in the trash can, which he had not had the stomach to return to the drawer even after washing.

And, oh yes, how could he forget. The two containers of anti-psychotics that were sitting on his bedside table. Would Clepison be made to hand over his record? Surely not. Not that it mattered now anyway.

During the questioning and the arrival of dad and his lawyer and his subsequent release he was still waiting for Nico. The wait took a lot of his mental space, so the proceedings seemed dull and far away to him. He registered faintly, though, Dad and Rachel talking in the car, about how there wasn’t enough evidence for him to be found guilty unless they both found the body and witness to him discarding it. There was no mention of school, though. He wouldn’t be returning, guilty or innocent.

They explained to him, quite kindly, why he would need to be hospitalized. They might have expected him to argue, but he nodded absently. In the rearview mirror his dad looked so much older than he had the last time Will had seen him. Or perhaps that was just Will reflected in the creases of his face. They had always looked alike. He must have felt Will’s gaze, and he looked at the mirror as well, meeting Will’s eyes. Will stared out the window instead, towards the darkened street.

He was still waiting. But now the wait was less forceful, and had appeased itself into a mode of being. He understood now why Nico had not appeared. He’d needed Nico to be evidence, and Nico was not to be restricted that way. To have him under the constricting, oppressive gaze of the manifold would be to lose him, to wear down the very manifestation of love he’d created to something crass and parodic. Under conventional attention, he would be as a specimen, lesser and taunted, and he saw now that Nico had not forsaken him.

In the small space of the elevator elevator they watched him, concerned, though not understanding, as if looking at him would reveal what was below. How odd that their ignorance would make them so ready to judge him. But he did not blame them. He had condemned himself hallucinatory after all, for quite a while, before he’d really understood.

“Go get your things, Will.” His dad said to him, when they came to the apartment. He and Rachel stood at the living room, talking under their voices, not even trying to stop their gazes flickering towards him, as if Will were already locked up and sedated in an institution.

He had expected his room to be boarded up, possibly, the doorway crossed with police tapes. It wasn’t. It looked, at first glance, exactly as he’d left it that morning. As he closed the door behind him, though, he saw that the cardboards had been taken off the windows, and he noticed several of his possessions gone.

He opened the windows. The room still smelled like death. He breathed it in, though instincts told him to gag. In and out, he breathed, and conditioned everything into memory. He sat on the bed, where Nico had been the night before.

He thought of fantastic things that existed only in fist sized letters, like Destiny and Love and Truth and Death and Life, and thought how very strange that he believed in none of them.

A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he whipped his head around, still waiting, still hopeful, but it was only himself in the small mirror on the wall, next to the desk and across the window.

He went to it. He’d been using it as a sort of memo board, after discovering that Post-Its didn’t stick as well to the walls. He peeled them all off, things he’d sought to remember; names of bones and muscles and diseases, little physical details that stood between he and himself. He stood there and examined his reflection. He might have expected a harrowed madman of a stranger there, but it was him alright, looking a little tired, but himself, fine and whole and so normal he might not have been a person but a fragment of a crowd.

The window blinds rattled. He watched them through the mirror, and though he saw nothing, _knew_. His gaze did not diverge from his eyes on the mirror. There was nothing else to see on the mirror anyway.

“You left me.” He said, but his tone was not accusatory. He had never meant it to be.

“No,” came a voice from a phantom spot behind him. “You left me.”

And Will knew it to be true.

“Did you plan all this?” Will asked. His voice was small, though he was not afraid anymore.

“I didn’t,” the voice came again. “I was scared. I… run away when I’m scared. I’m sorry. I didn’t believe you.”

“It’s okay. I was wrong anyway. You’re right. They wouldn’t have liked you. They’d have tried to make you into something else, and you’d have let them, and I’d have hated you for it.”

The window blinds rattled again, exactly in the same way as before, but Will ignored it this time. “Do you hate me?” The voice said, worried.

Will considered it. “I want to. But I don’t.”

“Do you trust me?” The voice said, more quietly.

Will didn’t, not really. “I want to.” He said anyway.

“Is that why you won’t look at me?”

Will whipped his head around. “No, I just thought I didn’t need to.” Nico was standing behind him, still as naked as the first time he’d seen him, looking as upset and lost as Will felt. Will hated it. Everything he’d done was done so that Nico would smile at him, and he’d failed even that.

That was why he held him this time, not because he needed proof Nico was real, but because he didn’t want to see his face riddled with remorse. “It’s okay,” he said, arms around Nico. He kissed the crown of his head.

After a while, Nico pulled back to look up at his face. Will let him, a bit reluctantly. Nico felt transient, even the moonlight through the window seemed to threaten his presence.

“You know why I’m here?”

Will nodded.

“What do you say, then?”

Will gave a crooked smile. “It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice, do I?”

Nico didn’t return the smile. “There’s always a choice.”

Will considered. “I guess my dad will be upset. And my friends, too.”

Nico shook his head. “No, don’t blame things on them. That’s just your wishful thinking, you wanting to believe that you play a big part of their lives. They’ll still have the rest of their lives, you won’t. They won’t miss you as much you will them. I know you feel like you’ve lost everything. That’s not true. You have so much left.”

“What would you if you were me?”

Nico’s eyes were sad. “I’d walk out that door and never look back. You can’t imagine how jealous of you I am even now. You don’t know how it is to have eternity and have nothing to fill it.”

“I’ll have you.”

Nico smiled, though his eyes were still sad. If he hadn’t, Will might have changed his mind. “You will, then you won’t. Everything loses meaning in the end.”

“But you won’t leave me?”

Nico shook his head,

“Okay, then. I won’t leave you either.”

“You won’t regret it?”

Will thought of Nico asking the same question at his front door, seeking to gain entry. He did regret inviting him in now, to the marrows of his bones. “No.” He lied.

Nico searched his face, and Will grasped Nico’s hand to stop him. “Come on. Do it.” He said it strongly, and Dad must have heard out on the living room, because he shouted out, _Will, who are you talking too?_

Very slowly, Nico raised the hand to his lips, and without baring his teeth, kissed the thenar eminen- no, the fleshy bottom of his thumb. Then there was a sharp sting of pain, more intense than it should have been, soon gone. Nico licked the wound, then lowered the hand, still holding it.

“Let’s go, then” Will said.

 _Will? Are you okay?_ The door rattled on the hinges. _Rachel, he’s locked the door._

Nico led him to the window, and Will pushed the chair to it. The sound of the chair being dragged was loud, and Dad’s voice turned frantic.

_Will, what are you doing? Open up. Rachel, find the keys._

Will stood up on the chair, then grabbing the side of the windows, stood on the window sill, his upper body outside the building. The cold air was exhilarating, and the moon nearly full. An errant wind swept his hair, wringing out a laughter from him. He jiggled each foot outwards and watched his flip-flops drop, tumbling into the night.

_Goddammit. Rachel, stop. Come here, help me push._

Nico’s arms on his waist, holding him an inch away from eternity. “Come on, Nico. Ask me if I trust you.”

“I already did.” Nico asked, his voice coming from somewhere around his back.

“No, no, like the movie. You haven’t watched Titanic, have you? Let’s watch it later, okay?”

“Okay.” Nico’s voice was still a little sad, and Will thought about ‘later’, and his heart clenched a bit.

The door thumped, in intervals by the second. The walls throbbed with it.

“I really wanted to be a doctor, you know. I really did.”

“Yeah, I know.” Nico jumped onto the window sill as well.

Will wanted to ask him if he thought he still could be, but didn’t. He could guess at the answer. Already, dreams like that seemed trivial and so very inconsequential, the way in which even large things seemed small from a distance. He imagined himself sailing away, watching land grow smaller and smaller, soon to be gone in the horizon.

Nico was behind him, crouching a bit. “Will this hurt?” Will asked him.

“No.”

Will laughed. “You’re a bad liar, Angel.” Yet even as he laughed he was vibrating. From what, he did not know. It couldn’t be fear.

The door thumped and thumped, and the apartment thrummed like a living animal, and Will thought of the cat vibrating under his knife.

“It’ll hurt.” Nico admitted. “Disenchantments always do.”

 _Thump_ , went the door.

“Make it quick, then. For me.”

“Okay.”

_Thump._

He didn’t look down at Nico’s arms tightening around his waist, but watched the darkness in front of him, as oppressive and solid as the wall behind. He had always loved the sun. He realized he would never see it again, and was, for the first time, truly sad. His fingers slackened, and came to rest on Will’s side.

There was no thump this time but an ear-splitting crash. There came with it, shouting and screaming, but Will did not hear them. He took a step, and was weightless.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, now that I've gotten this out of my system, I can now focus on writing rainbow colored vampire sparkles. Thanks again, Ivan, for giving me this plot bunny. I had a ton of fun writing this. I especially had that last scene caught up in my head for days.  
> Also, thanks for everyone who's read this utterly self-indulgent little thing. So much drama, so much blatant foreshadowing, urgh. 
> 
> How'd y'all like Will going Psycho? Not much, huh? The rest of Pygmalion will be much, much more happier than this thing.  
> Ask me questions and tell me how much you hated this in the comment box, thanks guys.


End file.
